Clove, District 2 Female
by theeveningprimrose
Summary: Clove's story
1. Chapter 1

I vault through his window and land lightly on the floor beside his bed. Or pallet, I should say. It's no more than a straw-filled mattress lying on the ground. I shake him awake and mutter his name.

"Cato, get up. It's time to go. We need to be at the training center as soon as possible, so we can get a little practice in before the reaping starts." His eyes flutter, and he starts, a small shriek coming out of his mouth. After realizing it's only me standing there, he relaxes and I can see his shoulders ease a little from their tense position.

"You okay?" I ask him. He turns to get dressed and I can barely hear his answer.

"Sure, yeah…it was just…"

"…Just what?" I crouch beside him, right in front of him, forcing him to look at me.

"Just a nightmare. That's all. I promise, I'll be fine."

"Sure, whatever," I scoff. He rises, dressed, and holds my hand. We wouldn't normally hold hands like this, and it certainly isn't for any ridiculous romantic reason, but it comforts us both to be touching this way. And on a day like this, when both our nerves are absolutely wracked with terror, it's the only thing that helps the bats in my stomach settle somewhat.

"Come on, let's go," he tells me, and we leave his now-silent house. His father is probably slumped drunk as a doorknob in his room. He knew he wouldn't have to work today, so he took the opportunity to recreate himself, consequently making the doctor who sells any kind of alcohol he can get his hands on much more wealthy than normal.

We cross from his dump of a village near the largest mine to center of the district, where the mayor's house, school, and training building stand.

For a few hours, we lose ourselves in the practice, letting knife and spear fly from our experienced fingers. When the trainer calls an end to training for the day, we meet at the door soaked in sweat.

"See you at the reaping?" he asks.

"Sure. If we get lucky, we'll have dinner together tonight. Deal?"

"Deal." We go our separate ways, unaware that our deal will take place in a completely different setting than we ever imagined.

"Ladies first!" Kapitsa trills.

My hands are wringing like fish out of water. For some reason, my vision turns blurry, and I can't see right. I start panicking inside, and I can't even tell myself why. _What is happening to me? Why am I like this?_ Then I hear the name that rings out over the crowd.

"Clove Propinqua." I feel myself stand up straight, and walk toward the stage. There's an empty feeling inside my chest. Or I should say, inside her chest. Inside the chest of the girl who's walking toward the stage right now. The girl whose name they just called. Who that is, I don't know. It can't be me. I'm in the air, watching a girl named Clove walk confidently toward the stage as a Career tribute should, no trace of fear in her eyes. But that can't possibly be me, there's no way it could, because I'm quaking with fear. That's the only emotion that's running through my veins right now. The other girl named Clove climbs the stage, and shakes Kapitsa's hand firmly, but my hands are quaking like leaves. At least I think they are, since I can't feel anything in my body right now. When Kapitsa asks the girl I think is me to announce herself, I hear my name is a clear voice ring out over the crowd. All I can do is think "_THIS CAN'T POSSIBLY BE ME RIGHT NOW. What is happening?_" over and over and over and over. But I never get an answer. Because at that moment, I hear the other name Kapitsa's absurd Capitol voice sound out.

"Saxum Oliver." Another boy steps forward, and the girl's stomach which I think is mine plummets. I know the boy who steps out to shout to the world, "I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute." The boy who steps up is Cato, Cato Ferum. And then, I'm me again, I have to be. I have to be strong for Cato. Because he's not ready for this. No matter how much training he's had, no matter how many yards he can throw a spear, no matter how many dummies' heads he can chop off with one stroke, he's not ready to be thrown into an arena of twenty-three other boys and girls. And I've always been the stronger piece of our duo. So I become me again, and give him a small smile as he comes to the stage. He climbs the stairs as I did, large steps that radiate confidence. He's asked to announce himself too, and he calls his name out over our district in front of us, challenging all the other tributes he'll meet soon enough. We're told to shake hands, and as we do, my small hand gives his large, callused one a squeeze of comfort. He meets my eyes, and I can see a mixture of excitement and fear. Mostly fear.

And then the Peacekeepers are there, leading us to the Justice Hall. I sit in my room alone for an hour, and have time to pull my head together. There's no one I'm leaving at home, at least no one that would care about me or that I have any real connection to. No one but Cato. But of course, he's not staying home. He'll be coming with me, to be thrown into an arena where one or both of us will die.

And then, I think to myself, I hope it's him who survives. I want him to survive. And I want to help him do it. That's what I'll do in the arena. That's my strategy, to keep Cato safe, to help him make it through in any way I can. If I have to slit my own wrists as the second to last, I'll do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Once we're on the train, I can see the stress poking through Cato's calm, confident demeanor. Whatever he projects to the cameras is a load of horseshit, and beneath the cocky mask he's put on, I can see right through to the fear that's eating him up inside. But our mentors and chaperone don't seem to notice anything's wrong, they're still treating him like their hero, like a victor, already. Maybe I just see his conflicted side because I know him so well.

We've made it back to my lavish train by the time he breaks down. I close the door and then lead him over to the bed and let him sob into my arms while tears inch down my own face. No matter what the commentators say in the Capitol, however much they project that he will be the winner, because of his clear training and fierce attitude, he'll never come home a winner. If President Snow places that victor's crown on his head after all the Games are over, and he comes home to a horde of reporters who swarm his new house in the Victor's Village to hear about how proud he is to win and how much it means to him, he will lose everything inside that arena.

Despite the lack of romance in our relationship, we are both the most important things in the world to each other. If he survives, that means I die, and a part of him will die with me. The other part of him that will die in those Games is his sanity. No matter how many quatrains he cuts in half, trainers he nicks, or other students he bruises, he will never be able to come to terms with killing other children, especially if he's expected to because of his status as a Career. _Why?_ I want to scream at the fates. _Why did he have to step forward to his own demise?_

But even if he _is_ tremendously hurt in there, even if he loses everything he has with him now, including myself, he is the one who will be able to build himself back up. He can do better than I can, he can bring glory to his district and gain it for himself. And that, ultimately, is the most important piece in their Hunger Games.


End file.
